Basil's Preamble
by SpaceCat97
Summary: Generations, gone in minutes - men, women, children, all lost to the sands of time. He thought he would join them, be with his brothers and sisters among the stars, but Fate wasn't so kind. (A short OC one-shot; important notes at the end; warning for ritualistic selfharm)


They hadn't expected it. They were equipped for fighting the dangers of the land, but nothing like this. They weren't prepared. Generations, gone in minutes - men, women, children, all lost to the sands of time. He thought he would join them, be with his brothers and sisters among the stars, but when he came to, the high sun burned his retinas, and he winced. When he finally gathered enough feeling in his body to roll off of his back, he was met with devastation. Tents had burned where they hadn't fallen into sink holes; the few bodies he could see were mangled and stained the dust with their lost life. He shuddered, whimpering at the sharp pain in his chest where no physical wound could reach.

For a while he just rested there, taking in the devastation of the people he once called Family. Great Fathers, he wanted to scream, to cry until he could no more. But he could not. There was too much work to be done. It was as the second sun peered over the horizon that he finally forced himself to his feet, stumbling to the remains of their temporary housing and laying his hands upon the fabric. He swallowed hard, then gripped it and pulled, tearing the fabric off its supports. From there, he proceeded to tear down whatever had been left half-standing, piling the remnants in the center of it all. Bodies joined the pile, though in a more organized manner, and then he added more fabric and wood. He continued in this manner until every flammable item and body had been placed together.

By the end of it, he was left with a handful of trinkets, his weapon, and a body shaking with exhaustion. He couldn't stop yet, though. It was growing dark. Most of the trinkets he let fall into a sink hole, keeping only a familiar pendant whose twin was long away from this planet entirely. Hanging the pendant around his neck, he proceeded to strike flint at various places around the grand structure of the remnants, starting small sparks around the edges and encouraging the flames to build.

Within the hour, the pile was ablaze, a grand pyre licking up towards the stars. He sat almost closer than he could stand, feeling the heat dig under his fur as the fire hungrily consumed all that was left of his home and hearth. He turned his eyes to the glittering stars, longing for some sign that he wasn't alone in the universe, but he found none. He shuddered, gripping his arms as the fire blurred. Burning tears spilled from his eyes as he clutched his knees, keening in his loss.

It was nearly dawn when the bones were brittle, and the fire had shrunken into a far more manageable blaze. He pulled himself up, swaying, but refused to fall. There was still something to do. He approached the fire, unsheathing the dagger from his side. For a moment, he held himself at the edge and stared at the marking of a Leviathan's eye etched in his palm. Taking the blade of the knife, he pressed it his palm to where it crossed over the pupil of the eye. He drew in a breath, stiffening in anticipation, before forcefully pressing down and slicing all at once. He gasped, gripping the dagger's handle tightly as he fell to one knee. He trembled, forcing his hand to remain outstretched over the flames, turning it to let his blood drip down onto the brittle bones of the dead. When the flow began to stem from clotting, he pulled it back, pressing it over his chest and taking a moment to catch his breath.

After a minute, he shifted to set his other knee down against the sand. He turned the dagger clumsily in his hand as he sat on his heels, bringing it up to his throat and pressing the tip of the blade just below his Adam's apple. He drew in a shaky breath and swallowed, feeling the cold steel shift his fur and dig against his skin, not quite enough to cut. The crackle of fire seemed to get louder and louder as he hesitated, shaking where he sat and struggling to breath.

Finally, he closed his eyes, inhaling with a sob, lowering his hand to clutch the blade at his sternum. "I'm sorry," he whimpered, doubling over and rocking like a child dealing with the effects of a nightmare. In a way, he kind of was. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't, I- I can't, I'm sorry, I _can't_." Everything for the Family.

Everything.

 _Not this._

He pressed the blade down against the sand, wishing it was gone. He shoved forward, into the fire, and felt the flames lick at his hands threateningly. He pulled them back, still shaking. Some of his fur had been singed, but it didn't appear that he had permanently harmed himself but for the cut. He turned his hand over to look at the injury. After a moment's thought, he curled his hand and pressed his claws into the wound, drawing blood from it again. He rubbed his fingers in the crimson liquid and drew it to his face. He drew a line down from below his nose to the crease of his chin, then a thick line across his throat, before finally brushing one down his sternum. A shoddy replacement, but acceptable nonetheless.

He stared into the crackling fire as the bones snapped angrily. He felt his heart seize, and he shuddered again. He swallowed hard, opening his mouth to lick his lips, ignoring the copper tang of his own blood. Silently, he mouthed one last apology and bowed his head. It wasn't until the remains were nothing but embers and ash that he finally pulled himself up, taking up his weapon and turning north.

"Brother!" He stiffened, turning his head at the term with a pang in his chest. Oh, how he missed it, but he should not answer it. "What brings you, Brother? News?" He backed away as the young Lombax slid down a dune to meet him, lowering his gaze. The boy frowned, seeming perplexed. "Brother?"

"AZU!" An older warrior slid down to join him, a small collection of hunters waiting atop the dune to watch the exchange. The warrior moved to stand a little in front of the boy, gesturing to Basil. "I see you. What brings you to our border?" Basil grimaced, shrinking back as he responded with a gesture of his own: 'I blind you.' The warrior frowned, looking him over. His stance was overall wary, but in tandem with curiosity and concern.

"Why do you not speak?" He swallowed thickly, gathering himself and finally lifted his hand, showing the scar he had let form on his palm. The warrior stiffened, inhaling. "The southern tribe..." Basil brought his hand back to curl around his staff as the warrior backed off and turned away. "Come, Azu. We should take our leave."

"But, he-"

"Mind it not." He struggled not to flinch at being addressed so impersonally. "It is but an apparition. It will be gone soon enough." The boy frowned, and Basil wanted to say something, but he couldn't. After another moment's hesitation, the boy reluctantly turned away. As they left, he faintly heard the warrior say to Azu, "There is nothing we can do for him. He is Lost." The boy looked back at him with a pitying glance, and Basil lowered his eyes to the sand again, quickly. He didn't deserve that boy's pity.

He remained in place as the Lombaxes ascended the dune again, and the group turned away, leaving him alone again. For a while longer, he remained, leaning heavily on his staff. _Lost..._ Never did any brother or sister wish to be known by that name. How tragic that he become one himself. After a short while, he made himself move on. It wouldn't do for the dead to linger in a tribe's hunting grounds. It left the ground soiled and barren. Best to move along.

His feet were sore. His throat was dry, and a heavy numbness made his head feel like cotton. He wasn't sure where he was any more - he'd never been this far north in the past. He wondered how far the desert truly stretched, and just how many Lombaxes wandered the sands. Perhaps, if he was careful, he would learn their patterns well enough to keep out of their way and avoid another awkward confrontation like the one some days ago.

Panting in exhaustion and unable to make himself go further for the moment, he sat down atop a dune, letting the sun burn his shoulders. He sipped at the little water he had, looking out over the barren sands. He would need to find an oasis soon to refill his water. He could only hope he could manage to do so without too much interference.

His ears flicked up suddenly, picking up something that sounded like a rattle, and then a roar. He looked around, searching for the source. In the distance, he heard the roar again. Putting his water away, he took up his weapon and stood. A slight breeze picked up, ruffling his untrimmed fur. He inhaled, tasting the air. He gagged at the smell of mold and decay, recoiling.

Moments later, he spotted movement not far from him - a dark shape sliding among the dunes. He followed it as closely as he could from where he stood, watching it move closer and closer. It stopped a few dunes away, coiling up on top of one and rising to give Basil a piercing stare. The Lombax felt his hackles rise, and he hissed at the beast. It flared, a growl rising into a challenging roar.

Basil felt all of his rage bubbling up at once, washing over him like a wave, and he snarled, breaking his silence. "WHAT?!" He brandished his weapon threateningly, challenging it right back. "Come at me, ya great bastard! I'm right here!" The beast roared again, just as fierce and threatening. "Why don'cha finish the job, ah?!" He glared at it as it peeled away from its perch, sliding through the sand faster than any runner could hope to match. Basil stood his ground atop his dune as the beast coiled up and around it to meet him, rising mere feet away from him and letting out another piercing roar. Fur bristling in hostility, Basil felt his claws slide out from under his nails, and he met the challenge with a howl of his own.

"What the hell is that savage up to?"

"How should I know? You're the one with the binoculars." With a scoff, the instrument was shoved across, and the first pointed in direction. "Holy shit...is he really trying to kill that thing?"

"It would seem so. We should keep our distance - we don't want that thing to come after us once it's done with him."

"Wait, wait, hold on." The second man lowered the binoculars slightly, shaking his head quickly. "What the hell?" He brought them back up, gaping at what he saw. The first man hesitated, despite being just about to spur his mount on.

"Well, what is it?" All of a sudden, a great roar echoed across the desert, fading in a rattle before falling quiet. Awed, the second man lowered the spyglass slowly, and then offered it to the first.

"He...he killed it..."

"What?!" Instantly, the binoculars were snatched away and brought up to look. At first, he was met with the sight of the great beast collapsed against a dune, unmoving. He spent a moment searching the area around it until he spotted the native atop the dune, staring down at the carcass. He lowered the glasses. "Remarkable...quite capable."

"And the first one we've seen in this desert." A nod was offered, and the spyglass brought up again before being lowered and put away.

"Come on." He spurred his mount towards the beast and the savage, only looking over his shoulder when his companion protested. "He's collapsed. I don't imagine we'd want to let this opportunity go to waste, eh?"

"Fair enough." The second man twisted in his saddle, waving to the small caravan behind him and waving them onward.

When he finally stirred, he felt cold, and his whole body lurched in a shiver. He felt wood beneath him, and as he opened his eyes, he could see his breath clouding above his nose. The desert never got this cold - not in the summer months. Gradually, he became more aware of his surroundings. He was in darkness. No, there was some light - seeping in through the cracks in his wooden confinement. It was dim, like he was in some sort of clouded climate, but the clouds never lingered so heavily over the sands his Family dwelled in.

The silence around him gave way the murmurs of noise. People moving, metal striking, and snippets of conversations he couldn't quite catch. He shifted, starting to push himself up, but grunted as his head hit the top of his confinement. He groaned, rubbing his head, and it was then that he took note of the metal clasped around his wrists, held together with a length of chain. He looked at it uncomprehendingly for a long while.

Suddenly, the sound of a bolt sliding out of place met his ears, and a door slid sideways. He winced despite the lighting not quite being as bright as that of the desert. The form of bars solidified between him and the door, keeping him in a smallish cubby space, likely among many. A man stood with a hand on the door, looking over the space until eyes settled on the Lombax's cubby.

"Ah, you're awake. Thought you'd crossed over for a minute there." The hefty man pulled himself up into the cart, sidling over and squatting down to get a better look at him. "Scrawny little thing, ain'cha? No matter - you'll fetch a good price anyway." He turned his head and called over his shoulder, "Oi, Brogol! Let's get this lot started! I want it done before the auction starts!"

* * *

 **Hi, folks! I'm alive, yes, hello~ Been a while, hasn't it? On this thing particularly: it's a one-shot. I am DONE. I refuse to commit any further! SHoo! (Thank you for reading~ 3)  
**

 **Important notes for this piece: This is set eons before the Ratchet & Clank series. (The original timeline, thank you. I don't touch the reboot.) I'm working on interpretations of cultures and settings. Basil, in this case, was part of a handful of nomadic groups, but there are Lombaxes (such as his friend Fakir, who will be written with later) who live in "civilized" cities. I have a whole structure in mind - it's great~**

 **So other updates: I will no longer be posting here on this site. You can still find me on AO3 and Deviantart as SpaceCat97 - I'll still be posting in those places as I write things. I'm in college now, so I don't do much solo writing, but you can be sure I'll post whenever I get around to having something. I'm mostly rping and writing stuff with Lombax OCs these days, but little else so far.  
**

 **Chronicles of Internet Earth is still getting that rewrite - it's slow, but I finally got some new ideas and inspiration for it. Please don't ask about it yet; it's a very tentative connection, and I don't want to lose it. One of these days, I need to find someone to bounce ideas with, but we shall see how that goes.**

 **I think that's all I've got to say. Nice seeing you folks~ Reviews and faves are loved~ 3 See y'all in some other corner of the internet. Stay jazzy, and be excellent to each other.**

 **Regards and Love,  
SpaceCat97, _S.C._  
(formerly Foenix Nightshade)**


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